


A Man in Uniform

by a_belladonna



Category: Tintin (Comics), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Tintin has a vivid imagination, Tintin is a sexually frustrated virgin, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_belladonna/pseuds/a_belladonna
Summary: Tintin really likes men in uniforms. He's also very much still a virgin.





	A Man in Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, Tintin is very much of age throughout the entirety of this fic.  
Inspired by a conversation over on DreamWidth - how Tintin seems to really, really like men in uniforms, and thus said fic was born. Not beta-read but I've checked and double-checked for typos etc.

He wasn't sure how or when it had started. But at some point he'd noticed that one thing in particular made him do a double take and set his mind running.  
Uniforms.  
And more specifically, men in uniforms.  
It had been somewhat manageable as long as he only sometimes had dealings with uniform-clad men...but then he went and befriended a captain of the merchant navy.  
He hadn't given that fact much thought until the day of the meteorite expedition take-off and he'd seen Haddock in his uniform and he'd been grateful for how his coat concealed most of his own body and he'd tried his best not to stare.  
Thankfully the ceremony on the docks had been cut short and soon the Captain had changed back into his usual clothes.  
Only to change back into the uniform for every meal.  
Tintin had felt flustered, especially after he was seated right next to him. Again, thankfully, all the professors had been overcome with seasickness for the first leg of the journey, making the meals mercifully short.

He had somehow managed to not give the uniform much thought until the exhibition about the Unicorn opened at Moulinsart and Haddock had donned said uniform again.  
And insisted on standing awfully close to Tintin and at one point giving his back a friendly rub.  
He'd bit his lower lip as he felt himself growing hard and ended up excusing himself and locked himself in a bathroom to desperately take care of certain things.  
As he'd stood there, back against the door, his plusfours and underwear pushed down, catching his breath and semen all over his hand, he'd felt terribly ashamed. How could he do this?

The events of that evening he'd later replayed in his mind, over and over again, only with a rather different outcome.  
What HAD happened was that they had been sitting across from each other in armchairs, quietly chatting about the opening of the exhibition.  
Him with a glass of water, Haddock with a glass of whiskey, until they had bid the other good night and went to sleep in their separate rooms.

But in his mind, oh, in his mind, he kept replaying the part where Haddock's legs had parted just so and he'd caught a glimpse of a bulge encased in black wool.  
In his (filthy, depraved, perverse) mind, the Captain noticed his staring.

Somehow he would end up on all fours in front of the Captain's chair, freeing an impressive member from the trousers (because for some reason Haddock had foregone underwear that day).  
He'd admire its length and girth, he'd suck the balls, he'd choke a little trying to take it all in, he'd feel glove-clad hands on the back of his head caressing him.  
Somewhere along the line his own clothes would disappear and he'd end up on all fours on a bed, feeling the rough wool from the uniform-pants scratch against his thighs and those glove-clad hands grip his hips (because of course the Captain would remain clothed. Oh, yes he would, in all that wonderful wool and starched shirt and shiny buttons) while he was filled by that magnificent cock.

Sometimes it played out differently.  
Sometimes he was playing chess with general Alcazar, except instead of playing chess he was bent over the desk getting fucked.  
Other times he was in a private meeting with king Muskar XII, but the meeting would invariably end with him servicing the king in a rather different way. Even though the real king had been nothing but devoted to his queen.  
Sometimes even lieutenant Delcourt would show him exactly what kind of bond one might forge in a Saharan desert fort.  
Sometimes it would all blend together into one, terrifying, dizzying mix that could all be boiled down to "a man, a real man, in a uniform, having his way with him".

The outcome was always the same. He'd end up feeling ashamed and sullied, lying in his bed with his pyjamas-top unbuttoned, the pants pushed down and out of the way, and semen drying on his belly, wondering what was wrong with him. Especially as he was still very much a virgin. Where did those ideas come from?

Lately he'd been able to add something else to the mix. A couple of American seamen. Only that was so painful to remember that he could barely stand to think about it.  
The evening after he, the Captain and Szut had been saved by the American navy, he'd left their cabin to get a breath of fresh air. Outside on the deck he'd encountered some of the navy personnel.  
He'd admired them from afar more or less since he'd come on board. Their tanned, lean bodies, their American swagger.  
And now a couple of them were right there, leaning against the rails, eyeing him. God, he had been so _close_. All he'd had to do was reach out.  
One of them had extended a pack of cigarettes towards him.  
"Wanna smoke?" he'd drawled, with a glint in his eyes.  
And all he'd managed to do was flush beet-red and stammer "uh, n-no thanks, I don't smoke," in what had probably been the absolutely worst, most French-accented English _ever_ and fled back inside where he then spent the better part of the night crying bitter, frustrated tears into his pillow, cursing his innocence and lack of courage, while Szut and Haddock snored in their bunks.

He was going to die a virgin, he was sure of it. It wasn't that he was attracted to the Captain like _that_ in their everyday lives. No, that was the terrible thing about it. That was why it felt so horrendously sick and wrong. It was the _uniform_ that did it.

***

Then one lovely summer day Haddock came home with an old friend in tow. Piotr Szut. Still working as a pilot, with a few days lay-over in Belgium.  
And very much wearing a pilot's uniform.

Tintin had felt almost lightheaded greeting him. Especially when Szut insisted on giving him a heartfelt hug. It was late July and quite warm for the day and he'd for once removed his blue sweater. The feeling of the uniform-jacket pressed against his body had given him goosebumps and, he noticed quickly, made his nipples harden. Thankfully nobody else noticed.

It turned out that Haddock had invited Szut to stay for dinner, and a plan began to take shape in Tintin's mind.  
It was probably a stupid thing to embark on, but lately he'd felt the weight of his virginity even heavier. It could not be that he was going to turn 22 without having received even a kiss.

But this time he would not run away terrified. All he needed was a little liquid courage.  
Apéritif? Yes, please.  
Not objecting to when the glass was refilled? Check.  
Drinking less water than usual for every glass of wine? Check.  
By the time they'd finished eating, he was feeling slightly dizzy, yet still perfectly capable of holding a conversation and feeling a bit more confident than usual.

The evening was so unusually warm that they ended up sitting outside after dinner, watching the last rays of the sun. So far everything had been going as planned. He'd managed to secure a spot immediately next to Szut, casually sitting so close their thighs were touching.

As the sun set completely and it was getting a bit colder, the Captain thankfully was the first to turn in for the night.  
He and Szut continued talking about everything and nothing while he cautiously tested the waters. Szut didn't object when he sat a little closer. He also didn't object when Tintin "accidentally" leaned against him or rested his hand on his thigh.  
With a small jolt Tintin suddenly realised that, actually, Szut's hand had been resting on his shoulders for a while and that said hand was rubbing his back now.  
He looked at Szut in the dim evening light. It seemed something was shifting, almost invisibly.

He swallowed. What had he thrown himself into? His gaze darted from Szut's eye to his lips and back, and he noticed that Szut was looking at him in the same way.  
And then Szut leaned in and kissed him.

And time slowed down yet the world spun around at a dizzying pace when he let himself be kissed, when he parted his lips and he felt a tongue gently probe and he didn't know how he knew what to do, but he sort of mimicked that and his tongue met Szut's and it ought to feel weird, yet it didn't.

Instead it felt all kinds of right and heat shot down his chest and began pooling in his groin, especially when he felt strong, lean arms embrace him.  
Perhaps it was the alcohol but it felt much better than what he'd imagined. (Though truth to be told, kissing had never really been part of the equation of what he'd imagined.)

They broke the kiss and Szut looked at him while Tintin was trying to catch his breath.  
"You ok?" Szut asked.  
Tintin nodded, while supporting his hands against Szut's chest. "Yes, or, well. I never thought this would ever actually happen to me," he said.  
What a stupid thing to say, he thought to himself.  
"Why not?" Szut asked, one hand caressing his cheek.  
Tintin just shrugged. "I don't know. It just didn't seem like...very likely."  
He bit his lip. Stop yourself! he scolded himself inwardly. Stop yourself, or Szut will just end it right here!  
Szut's hand moved from his cheek, across his ear, to end up caressing the nape of his neck.  
"Of course it would. It just did." He kissed him again, a bit more intensely. "It getting cold out here. How about go inside?"  
Tintin nodded.

He could feel his heart beating faster than usual as he led Szut upstairs to his room. For a fleeting moment he wondered where Milou had run off to but guessed he'd probably just found a spot away from all the chatting humans.

He could feel his hands shake slightly as he closed the bedroom door behind them. It very much felt like the point of no return.  
It seemed Szut sensed his unease because he pulled him into another kiss, and this time he took his time running his hands up and down Tintin's backside, down to his buttocks, up again and slipping under his shirt. Meanwhile Tintin more or less just hung on for dear life, clutching Szut's shoulders and feeling lost in all the sensations.

Somehow his clothes were removed bit by bit and when he sat down on the bed he was completely naked. Looking up at the still fully clothed Szut he felt very vulnerable and exposed like that, yet also very aroused.

But also a little at a loss. Now what? In his fantasies this was usually the point where he was flipped over and just got taken by the person. But it seemed real life behaved somewhat differently. For one, Szut had removed his jacket and was loosening his tie.

And he noticed he didn't mind at all. As nice as it had been to be pressed against a clothed body, now all he wanted was to have the other man naked and as close to him as soon as possible.  
He gestured for Szut to come closer. As he bent over him, Tintin reached up and pulled him down for another kiss. While they kissed he tried to unbutton the shirt. That was a bit more difficult than expected so he ended up just pulling it out of the pants and snaked his hands up under the shirt that way.

The body underneath the shirt was lean and wiry, he felt muscles shift under his hands, he felt his fingertips brush over nipples and against a bit of hair.  
Szut broke the kiss, quickly pulled off the shirt and laid down next to him.  
Suddenly Tintin found himself lying on top of him, straddling his hips and feeling the clothed erection pressing against his own abdomen.  
He gasped as Szut's hands on his hips held him in place while he ground up at him from his lying position. It felt electrifying in his groin.

"What you want?" Szut asked, licking his lower lip. "Tell me."  
Tintin gaped at him. He hadn't really expected to be asked like that. He chewed his lip a little. It felt swollen after all that kissing, he noticed.  
"Well, I, uhm, I want you to..." he looked away for a second, "to fuck me. Please." There. He'd said it. It felt rather transgressive using such a vulgar word, but he couldn't at this moment think of a more fitting word.  
Szut's hands squeezed his buttocks. "You sure? I be gentle, but still it might hurt."  
He nodded. "I know. I still want to."  
Szut smiled. "Fine." He ran his hands up Tintin's back again. "Then lie down."

While Tintin laid down on his back, Szut stripped off his pants. Tintin swallowed as he ran his eyes over the other's body. He'd seen a naked man before, of course, but not like this. His gaze lingered a bit longer on his erection. So like his own, yet so different. Different colour, different curve, different foreskin.

He stretched out a hand. "May I?" he asked. Szut nodded, and Tintin ran his fingers over it, then closed his hands around it. It felt so weird touching someone else there. He felt himself growing a bit more confident and started stroking at quicker pace. 

Szut closed his eye and moaned softly, but then soon indicated him to stop.  
"I thought you want something else," he said. "We need prepare you, or it hurt. You have anything?"  
Tintin nodded. "Yes, I have some vaseline in the top drawer there,"  
Szut gave a quick smile, "Really?"  
"Yes, it's good for chapped lips," Tintin blurted out quickly – too quickly after his own liking. "And for, uh..." he continued, blushing a bit.  
"I understand. You have experiment, a little?" Szut said, pulling out the drawer.  
Tintin nodded again, feeling shameful. What wouldn't Szut think?  
"Good, you know a little how feels, then," Szut continued, almost like they were discussing the weather. Certainly not like Tintin had just admitted to touching himself in places you really weren't supposed to.

One finger slid in, relatively easy. It almost felt too much looking at Szut at the same time, so he closed his eyes instead to only focus on the sensations. But one thing was sure, Szut was far gentler than anything he had imagined.  
The finger moved carefully in and out. It was nice but he felt he'd sort of already been there on his own.  
"More, please," he panted. What kind of slut didn't he seem?  
Getting two fingers in, though, was a bit more of a challenge, or perhaps Szut just took his time.  
It stretched more and he was almost on the verge of telling Szut to stop it when he felt Szut's other hand caress his thigh.  
"Breathe. Remember breathe. If not good, tell me stop."  
Oh, yes. Taking a deep breath did seem to help. The pleasure seemed to return as he got used to the feeling of the fingers inside him.  
"Try touch yourself," Szut continued, sounding a little out of breath.  
He had to admit, that made things even more pleasurable. The combination of the fingers inside him and his own hand touching himself felt really nice, actually. He bucked his hips. That whimpering moan, was that really him?  
"Please, again, continue," he moaned, modesty be damned.  
Szut chuckled and leant down to kiss him. He eagerly opened his mouth for the kiss. He could get rather used to this kissing, he thought.

Szut nibbled at his earlobe while still moving his fingers in and out of him. Tintin bit his lip to not moan too loud.  
"Are you ready?" Szut asked. His voice shook a little too, Tintin noticed.  
"Yes, yes I am," he answered. Szut's fingers withdrew and it sounded like he administered more vaseline.  
Then he indicated for Tintin to turn over and lie on his side.

He thought he was ready, but he almost had his doubts when he felt the cockhead pressing against his opening. Almost. Because while it stretched and burned a little, it felt like some kind of pleasure he had thought was unobtainable was lurking just behind the discomfort. Then it pressed again, and it hurt, but less than before and then it was like something gave way and Szut slid all the way in and he almost forgot to breathe, because good heavens, being filled like this was just as overwhelming as he had imagined, yet vastly different. Yes, he thought. Yes, yesyesyes.

He felt Szut moving behind him, gingerly moving back and forth, slowly and carefully thrusting in and out, gripping his hip.  
Pleasure tinged with a bit of pain shot through him at every move.  
If saying 'fuck' earlier had felt transgressive, it was nothing compared to how transgressive this kind of pleasure felt. He began stroking himself. Halfway lying on his side, halfway pressed face down against the mattress, all he could do was receive.  
Those moans, were they coming from him? He didn't care. However, the position was a bit uncomfortable.  
"Szut," he moaned, "please, can we change positions a bit?"  
"Of course," he replied, a bit more out of breath. "Try lie on back and hold legs."

This was better. His legs had ended on Szut's shoulders and all he could concentrate on right now was the feeling of the cock thrusting in and out of him, his hand touching himself and that part where Szut's hips hit against his own body.  
His free hand was gripping the sheets and he was dimly aware how he was whimpering and moaning in a way he hadn't imagined he'd be able to.  
He felt himself coming, which felt familiar yet so different from what he was used to. Contracting around that cock brought a new wave of pain-tinged pleasure and it felt like he came harder than ever before, his body stiffening, his mouth falling open.

While catching his breath he noticed that Szut stiffened and gasped, muttering something in Estonian Tintin was glad he didn't know what meant, obviously coming himself, his fingers digging into Tintin's thighs. He felt strangely proud knowing that his body had facilitated that.  
Szut looked down at him, still holding his legs, though gingerly lowering them. A few strands of blond hair were hanging down his forehead.

Tintin was suddenly acutely aware how crumpled the sheet in his hand was, the feeling of a few beads of sweat running down his legs and how the sheet clung to his back.  
Their eyes met. He didn't know what to say, his mouth felt like it didn't work at the moment. Instead he just let go of the sheet and ran the hand up Szut's forearm. He could feel the erection inside him softening, and winced a bit when Szut withdrew.

"Yes, you probably feel a bit sore tomorrow," Szut said. "No worry."  
The physical aspect of the aftermath was the least on Tintin's mind, however. He was unsure how to say it but felt he had to.  
"Szut, I hope you won't be angry with me, but even though this was extremely pleasurable, I'm not, not interested in you in a, in a romantic sense." 

He swallowed. It felt very callous to say, and wouldn't Szut just think that he was some cheap slag? But he couldn't lie about this. It was better to be honest.  
Much to his surprise, Szut just smiled and leaned down to kiss him. "It ok. Sometimes it just about the physical release. I am honour to be your first. But you need someone your own age, not one-eyed Estonian pilot much older than you."  
Tintin swallowed again and nodded. "You're right. And thank you." They kissed again, but only shortly.  
"I better go my own bed," Szut said. "To not make questions. Good night." He quickly dressed and let himself out of the room.

The air in the room was quiet and warm. Tintin could feel the semen trickle down his legs as he got up to open a window and decided to quickly wash himself down before going to sleep. As he came out of the bathroom he heard a familiar scratch at the door. Milou had turned up again and wanted to come in and sleep in his usual spot on the floor.  
They both slept in only moments.

***

Szut made his way down the hallway. Not towards the guest bedroom but Captain Haddock's where the lights were still on. He quietly slipped in. Haddock looked at him expectantly.

"So, how did it go?"  
Szut sat down next to him. "It go fine. He probably sleep well tonight."  
Haddock brushed the strands of hair away from his forehead. "I'm glad it all went according to plan. He's a good boy and I'd rather you were his first than some random Americans onboard a naval vessel."

They kissed. Szut moved to get up. "I go wash. Don't sleep."  
Haddock laughed. "Don't worry, I won't."


End file.
